The Broken Wheel
by Shadow-ofthe-Night35
Summary: Lucy is Morning, Edmund is Day, Peter is Evening, Susan is Night in the 24hours when the world ended in a crash of thunder. My train-crash fic. Noship, just a broken wheel of time. Obviously, character death. 1 Word Challenge List 4 words .
1. Prelude

A/N: I came up with the idea of writing a story inspired by the words morning, day, evening, and night. This slightly strange, and mildly depressing fic is the result. It has four chapters and the Prelude, one chapter for each of the Pevensies and the connecting beginning. It is my train-crash fic, since every Narnia author needs one of those. I hope it makes sense and does not depart too much from the book. The title is somewhat abstract, but I think it fits.

Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia or the Pevensies. But I'm particularly proud of this one.

**The Broken Wheel**

Prelude: Twenty-four Hours

Morning bursts into Day

Day is covered by Evening

Evening fades into Night

Night is conquered by Morning

Lucy knows about Morning, the dawn of hope. But she can't quite touch Day, and Evening and Night she cannot understand because she is caught up in the light.

Edmund knows about Day, the warmth of comfort. But he shies away from Evening, and Night and Morning are beyond his reach, even as he strains to touch them.

Peter knows about Evening, the gathering of shadows. But he fights against Night, and Morning and Day he cannot see through the fog of approaching darkness.

Susan knows about Night, the darkness of despair. But she hides from Morning, and Day and Evening are not bright enough to break through the clouds.

Together, they know the complete circle, one full spin of the wheel. And that is what makes them strong. When they are separate, the wheel is broken, their knowledge incomplete. The wheel broke on the day the world ended in a crash of thunder and a streak of silver light.


	2. Morning

A/N: I particularly love the imagery in this one. Morning proved easiest to find adjectives and comparisons for. Let me know what you think of my images?

**The Broken Wheel**

Morning

The idea, however unlikely it was, however distant, glimmered like morning on the horizon of Lucy's mind. The thought of being in Narnia again after the long night without it shone like a rising sun. It was stupid, she knew, to get her hopes up this high when everything screamed that this wouldn't work. But Lucy was an expert at getting her hopes up. They rose faithfully, like the sun, unwavering in their routine, bringing the light of hope to anyone else near her, bringing them morning, too.

She smiled as she took her eyes from the landscape flying past the train window to read the telegram again. Edmund's wire had not said much other than that they had the Rings and had not been arrested for trespassing. But the short, succinct note was all it took to raise her ballooning hopes, and here she was, sitting on the train with Eustace and Jill, the Professor and Aunt Polly, going to meet Peter and Edmund and perhaps, just perhaps, her day would become even brighter when the seven friends of Narnia were once again _in Narnia_.

Lucy sighed with an excited contentment and leaned her head against the Professor's shoulder. Eustace was muttering about how it was impossible, how they had to wait for the Call, not just jump in whenever they felt like it, and how, if "things never happen the same way twice", why did they think the Rings would work again? She laughed.

"You've just got to believe, Eustace," she said, smiling. "Stop trying to bring in the rain clouds. Let the sunshine through."

"We aren't all made out of sunshine like you are, Lucy," he said sulkily.

"None of that now," Aunt Polly said. "You'll only make yourself sick with worry. And if you're not made out of sunshine, Eustace, borrow some of Lucy's. Aslan knows, she's got enough to go around." She shared a special smile with Lucy. Everyone had learned long ago that when things got too hard, you only had to borrow some of Lucy's "sunshine"—her hope, faith and belief—and then everything would be a bit easier. Lucy's hope rose like dawn, her faith shone like morning, and her belief was as unshakable as the sun.

Lucy turned her gaze back to the window, and silently prayed to Aslan that their last, desperate, effort to regain Narnia would not be futile. She knew, perhaps better than anyone, that Things Never Happen the Same Way Twice, but she couldn't help thinking that this wasn't the Same Way Twice. Yes, the Rings had been used before, but that was to get the White Witch _out of_ England. This time, they were being used expressly for the purpose of getting _into_ Narnia. And she clung to this shining golden thread of hope that was all the light of dawn chipping away at the shadows of doubt which refused to give up their hold on night.

"Look!" Jill said suddenly, "It's Peter and Edmund!"

"And they've really got the box!" Eustace said excitedly.

Lucy sat forward, waving out the window at her brothers who were waving a dirty square box back at them. A bubble of excitement rose in her chest. Narnia was one touch away…

A sudden jerk and a terrible noise. A curious feeling of light and floating, like Magic, but at the same time, like no Magic she had ever felt before. Perhaps, she thought, Aslan had answered her prayer. Maybe they didn't have to use the Rings at all. Maybe this was the Call they'd been waiting so long for.

She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again she _knew_—the grass was greener, the sky was bluer, everything was more perfect, and it was _Narnia_. She smiled as the last clinging doubts fell away; the glimmer of hope burst into the bright shining light of faith, and Morning turned into Day…


	3. Day

A/N: This one was actually hardest--how do you write about something as commonplace as day?--but I'm almost certain Edmund got his fair share here. :)

**The Broken Wheel**

Day

The memories playing one-by-one in Edmund's mind were suffused in the warm sunlight of day, shaking off the cobwebs of dewy morning that clung to them. The minutes spent sitting on the platform, waiting for the train to pull in, went past agonizingly slowly, but Edmund found himself less impatient than Peter. Then again, he had been to Narnia more recently than Peter had, and he had been less time in the English night that came coupled with the knowledge that there would not be another Call. Peter had been in that dark far longer. Edmund had more recently seen the sun.

As he sat quietly reliving his Narnian daylight, he could see Peter itching to open the battered, dirty box and slip one of the Rings on, escape to Narnia before the others even arrived. But he didn't. Edmund knew this was probably due to Peter's instinct to never stop protecting his family (which implied never leaving them behind), and his over-developed habit of bringing up the rear-guard in everything, protecting from behind. Edmund smiled as he watched his brother pacing up and down the platform, remembering a time sitting in the same position, watching Peter pacing the same number of steps with the same look on his face, up and down the maze of corridors inside Aslan's How before the duel with the usurper Miraz.

"Come and sit down," Ed said lazily. "You won't bring them here any faster by pacing." Peter sighed and sat next to his brother, the box rattling temptingly in his pocket. He winced and continued his silent brooding.

"Penny for your thoughts," Edmund said after a moment, gazing up at the sky and remembering lazy days on the beach below Cair Paravel, watching the clouds scud gently across the blue, blue sky.

"Susan," Peter said simply, looking sadly out at the few other people scattered across the platform. "I miss her."

Edmund sighed. Peter and Susan had rowed spectacularly the last time they had met, and had not seen each other since as Peter had moved out at the conclusion of the awful fight. Susan had accused Peter of never growing up, still playing at imaginary games they had played at as children. Peter had exploded at his sister, and stormed out without making up. Edmund knew why: Peter _had_ grown up—twice. And Susan implying that he never had, that he was a liar and a child, had been too much for the very Narnian, very kingly, very grown-up older brother who had never understood why his sister no longer believed. Edmund knew it was because Susan only ever saw night in anything, while Peter could not begin to think of a world without day—the pessimist and the optimist, who never understood each other and never would. But they missed each other just the same.

"She should be here, you know," Peter said suddenly.

"You'd have to forgive her first," Edmund said quietly. The one dark stain on this bright, exciting day was the fact that Susan wasn't coming with, that Susan no longer believed, and the Peter could never forgive her.

"I think she knows she's wrong, deep down," Peter said, very quietly. Edmund made no response. Neither of them spoke then, lost in their own thoughts. Edmund's sunshine-filled day began to cloud over as a glimmer of doubt niggled in the back of his mind. Susan _should_ be here. What would she do, once they were all gone? They hadn't even said good-bye. A shadow or two began to pile up in the corners of his mind and he tried to shove them away, hide them behind shafts of sunlight. But another layer of shadows built up as the train at last came into sight, chugging far too quickly around the bend.

A flash of silver and a noise like thunder and the world ended. Edmund wondered dimly if this was the Call they'd all been waiting for or if it was something far less pleasant. He felt no pain, but his hand was wrenched from Peter's grasp and he floated away, alone and unsure. He closed his eyes and tried to cling to the last wisps of sunlight slipping through his fingers as Day turned into Evening…


	4. Evening

A/N: This is the first one I wrote (yeah, I wrote them out of order...) and it's my favourite. I cried.

**The Broken Wheel**

Evening

Darkness gathered at the edges of Peter's vision rather as evening falls, the shadows collecting in the corners and spilling out across the brightness of day. Lying under the twisted wreckage of the train, his lower half crushed and lifeless, he struggled in what he knew to be a futile battle to keep the glimmers of night away. He struggled to stay in the sunshine. It wasn't time for evening yet.

Peter's breath moved faster and shallower through his lungs, but he forced himself to keep breathing. One hand clutched the wooden box that held the Rings, their last despairing grasp at Narnia. His other hand scrabbled desperately over the burning metal beside him as he sought some sign of Edmund, his comrade in arms, his partner in crime, his best friend…his little brother…

He turned his head, eyes searching through the condensing fog in his mind. He refused to give up. He had to find Edmund first, get Edmund to safety. All that mattered was that Edmund was safe. His hand collided with something soft, wet, slippery—Edmund's hand that had been wrenched from his grasp only moments before. He gripped it with all his might, but there was no response. When he brought their intertwined fingers into his line of vision, the blurry image was stained red with blood.

"Ed?" he choked; dragging in each breath had never before been harder. "Ed, please. Oh, Aslan, please. Eddy!"

He had not used his private, pet name for his brother since before the first time they'd gone to Narnia, since Edmund's first day of school, when the younger boy had shouted that it was a baby name and told Peter to never use it again. But Peter used it now, repeating it over and over with every labouring breath.

"Eddy, you know it's going to be okay, right?" he whispered, tears streaming down his face and he clutched his brother's hand tighter. "I promise, Eddy. I'll make you safe before I go, Eddy. Eddy, I promise. I'll always protect you."

The shadows were more numerous now; the darkness was drawing nearer. Day—bright, shining day—had faded quickly, and evening was well along. Soon, it would be night.

"Eddy, I love you," Peter breathed. "And I promise, it will be okay." He drew the lifeless hand up and pressed his lips against it, ignoring the taste of blood. Taste was beyond him now, just as pain was no longer something he could feel. Dimly, somewhere in his shadows, he heard footsteps stop near him.

"Save Eddy," he whispered, pleading with the unknown presence. "Please. I promised to protect him, but I can't now. It's the first time I haven't been able to protect him. So please, make Eddy safe."

"It's alright," a low voice said soothingly. "You did protect him. He's safe."

Somewhere, Peter knew that was a lie, that Edmund was just as lifeless and torn and unprotected as he himself was. But breathing was nearly impossible now, and living was getting so hard. He squeezed Edmund's cold, bloody hand tightly and the shadows grew too numerous to stay hidden in the corners. The veil of darkness drew its curtains across his mind and he had never known a darker sky. But then again, he had never known brighter stars either.

"Eddy," he whispered breathlessly, "tell Susan I forgive her." He closed his eyes as the last glimmer of sunshine fell to the gathering twilight and Evening turned into Night…


	5. Night

A/N: Poor Susan... the only one left. I wrote this with her angry at being left behind, but then I rewrote it, because I don't think there would be room for anger, with all that grief. Let me know if I made the right decision?

**The Broken Wheel**

Night

A deep black thundercloud blew across Susan's mind, hiding the sunlight and turning everything into night. When the cloud burst and the tears began to fall, she wondered if they would ever stop, if there would ever be a tomorrow, or if she would stay locked in this night forever. Part of her never wanted morning to come.

She read the telegram again, even though she had memorized its contents a few hundred read-throughs ago. She sat in one of the hospital's uncomfortable, plastic, waiting chairs, and sobbed as she read the telegram again. She had no need of it now, now that she had seen with her own infallible eyes what the telegram told her in fallible print. She was the only one left. And they had taken day with them to wherever they had gone, leaving her alone with night.

The hospital people had only let her see the faces of her dead family. They said the rest would be too horrible. She knew they were right—the train crash had mangled their bodies beyond recognition—but being told she could not touch or hold her family in her arms was awful to hear. She had managed to remain calm and identified them all. Yes, that was her mother, her father, Peter, Edmund, Lucy. Sweet, beautiful Lucy had been too much. That was when night had descended on her like a pack of wolves, merciless and frightening.

Everyone left her alone, secluded in her corner, with no company but her tears, and no comfort in the night. She wished for Peter to come put his arm around her and promise once more to protect her. She wished for Edmund to give her his wide grin and his grave assurance that all would be well. She wished for Lucy to squeeze her hand and tell her all she needed was a good laugh. She wished to hold her parents in a warm embrace and never let go. And she wept all the more because her wishes were daytime wishes, and now, there was only night.

Dimly, somewhere in her shadows, she heard footsteps stop near her. Through her tears, she saw a weary paramedic standing sheepishly before her. She wiped her face with her handkerchief, but as more tears kept falling, it seemed a silly thing to do.

"Are you Susan?" the man asked in a low, soothing voice.

"Yes," she choked between sobs.

"I'm sorry," he said. She said nothing, only cried harder. "Was the golden-haired boy your brother?"

"Peter," she whispered, "yes. And the other one is—was—Edmund." The man nodded, wringing his hands.

"I was the one who found them," he said finally, "and Peter, well, he was still alive, see, and he thought his brother was too, and he asked me to make sure the other one—Edmund?—was safe, so I told him it was alright, and—look, you don't want to hear this. I'm sorry. I wouldn't have come over here, except… Well, what I'm trying to say is, he asked me to tell you something. The last thing he said, he said, 'Tell Susan I forgive her'." He rested a hand briefly on her shoulder as her sobs redoubled, then he turned and walked away.

Susan whispered over and over to Peter, telling him she forgave him too, wishing she could see him one more time. But as if the paramedic's words were shafts of sunlight breaking through the turbulent clouds, the tears slowly ran to a stop. She knew it would be a long time before all of the shadows dissipated completely, but there was a part of her that hoped for tomorrow. She remembered Peter's golden hair and his golden promises, Edmund's shining eyes and his shining heart, Lucy's bright smile and her bright faith, and she remembered dawn. She smiled as the last tear slid down her cheek and Night turned into Morning…

End.


End file.
